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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28865406">Morning Muse</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingofree/pseuds/Kingofree'>Kingofree</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wine and Guitars [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Human, Grandpa Rome is complicated, M/M, so is romano, spamano - Freeform, tags added as needed, university/street performer au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:01:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,794</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28865406</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingofree/pseuds/Kingofree</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Every Morning Antonio sings his heart to the most beautiful man in all of Florence while said man browses the news stand. Every morning Lovino takes the same route to the University and listens to a handsome street performer sing for his dinner. It's not his fault the man chose to set up across from the news stand Lovino checked every morning. He definitely wasn't sticking around to listen to the songs the man sung.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>South Italy/Spain (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wine and Guitars [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141400</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Historia de un Amor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">

        <li>
          Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: 
            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29175627">Morning Muse</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/QiuShen/pseuds/QiuShen">QiuShen</a>
        </li>


    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Antonio yawned, fingers strumming his guitar lazily as he watched the crowds pass. It was just him today, his friends not willing to rise with the sun the way that he did. That was alright though, sometimes having a calm morning to himself was nice. Well, as to himself as a street musician ever had anyway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rolling his shoulders, the Spaniard let his fingers begin to pluck out a tune. The real benefit of having a solo performance in the morning was that he got to pick what to sing on his own. There was no one to agree with but himself and of course the crowd he was playing to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or rather, the person. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Green eyes caught sight of that cute little curl before he could see the fashionable scarf and tight jeans of his morning muse. Straightening up, he took a deep breath and began to sing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“<em>Ya no estás más a mí lado corazon~</em>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled around the words as his muse slowed down, checking into his bag then glancing casually over at Antonio. He didn’t know the boy’s name, but he walked this way every morning and afternoon, presumably going to and from classes at the local university. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“<em>En el alma solo tengo soledad~</em>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The song crooned out of him, fingers plucking the strings and tapping on the wood of his guitar. The man’s constant morning frown smoothed a little, his hunched shoulders relaxing as he lingered by the newspaper stand, appearing to browse the headlines. Anotnio couldn’t know for sure, not really, but he thought maybe his muse always lingered nearby to listen to him play in the mornings because it helped calm the frantic morning rush. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“<em>Siempre fuiste la razón de mí existir~</em>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gorgeous hazel eyes looked away from the news stand, meeting his own sparkling green. To Antonio’s delight a creeping red blush began to spread over his cheeks. So maybe he could be a little more sure of the man’s motivations for hanging round than he’d thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Voice going a little husky, Antonio made sure to keep eye contact as he crooned the next line of the song directly to his mystery man. “<em>Es la historia de un amor~</em>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To his delight, the red deepend and spread, reminding him somewhat of the first blush of color on a plump tomato. The man bit his lip and looked away, taking a step toward Antonio. As the song continued, he took another, and another, and another until he was standing in front of the street performer with a tightly clenched hand held out over his guitar case. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tilting his head to catch his eye again, Antonio smiled widely. He leaned forward and practically purred the lines of the song at him. “<em>Que le dio luz a mí vida~</em>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An intriguing twitch seemed to run up the man’s spine and his hand spasmed around whatever he was holding so tightly. Wide hazel eyes staring into his green as he finished the song and let the final notes of his guitar fill the air between them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then the hand was relaxing, a couple euros falling from it into Antonio’s guitar case. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here.” The gruff voice wasn’t exactly what he’d expected this man to sound like, but it still lit Antonio’s face up like the sun to hear. Of course, he didn’t get a chance to even so much as thank the man let alone hear more of it. As soon as the word had been spat out like something his muse didn’t want in his mouth, the slim man turned and hurried away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Calling after the hunched shoulders and bouncing curl, Antonio couldn’t help the full feeling in his chest. “Gracias amigo!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The feeling was still there, carrying him through the day as his friends showed up later in the morning and set up their own seats and equipment. The classical Spanish guitar music he preferred was left to the morning as more popular and bouncy songs that drew in crowds took over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course he was happy to sing those too, but he thought maybe his morning muse liked the classics just as much as he did. He certainly didn’t linger to listen to them play in the afternoons like he did in the mornings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Speaking of his muse though, it was about time for him to come back this way. Unless he’d changed his routine, he usually wandered back through the crowded street in the opposite direction of his morning travel around this time of day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if on cue, he spotted the distant curl moving through the crowd. A quick tap and strum of his guitar alerted his friends to the change in song and he saw Francis give him a knowing look even as the Frenchman let his voice trail into the end of their current song. He didn’t start to sing again, instead settling back to position a flute at his lips while Gilbert kept time on the drums to his other side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Voice ringing out clear and true as he began to sing one of the more popular songs that never failed to get them a couple generous donations, he watched the curl pause. It didn’t linger though, pace resuming until he could see the man through the gathering group of listeners. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The eyes he’d admired that morning were turned away from him. He couldn’t get a good angle from here to try and catch them either. Instead he sang more strongly, willing the man to give him at least a single glance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like he could hear the plea in his voice, Antonio saw that finely sculpted jaw clench and turn, a single eye catching his. That was all it took for a wild flush of red to flood the man’s cheeks again and to Antonio’s disappointment he looked away and picked up his pace. Then the curl, and the man it was attached to, was gone. His stylish shoes making audible taps on the pavement Anotnio swore he could hear over their own music. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Song winding down, he smiled and thanked people as they cheered for them and more cash was added to his guitar case. Thankfully his friends didn’t comment on the man like they sometimes would and instead Francis took over charming the crowd. They played for a while more into the evening, but weekdays weren’t the best money makers for them once it began to get dark so it didn’t take them long to pick up and head out for the day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he followed his friends toward a local bar, Antonio couldn’t help but hope he’d see the man again in the morning. Tomorrow was Friday and he had a special song he wanted to sing him for their morning serenade. Being Friday though, he might not show. Antonio hadn’t figured out the pattern yet, but sometimes the man didn’t go to class on Fridays, or if he did he didn’t take the usual route to do so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, maybe the saints would smile on him and grant him the heavenly sight of his muse tomorrow anyway. The man had missed last Friday and so far he hadn’t skipped two weeks in a row. There was still hope for Antonio’s song to reach him after all.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Pasta alla Norma</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lovino's point of view. This is the only chapter that will be a "repeat" of a day we've already seen.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Lovino scowled as he pulled his scarf on and grabbed his messenger bag. Their grandfather was out at the northern vineyard again and had taken his brother Feliciano with him. Front he way nonno doted on his brother people would never know that Lovino was the one who was supposedly his heir, but he was always taking Feliciano to visit their properties and telling Lovino to pass his classes first. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Of course he was going to fucking pass his classes. Who did Nonno think he was, some kind idiot? Just because Feliciano had chosen to take a year off from school before deciding on a university didn’t mean Lovino should be excluded from the family business. The whole point of him taking all these damn classes was to </span>
  <em>
    <span>take over </span>
  </em>
  <span>the family business!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It took everything in him to not jab the key into the lock as he secured the door and headed out. He didn’t want to get another key stuck in it and have his landlord breathing angrily down his neck. The man was nice enough, but he had a scary face and would definitely tell his grandfather about it if Lovino had to have his door knob replaced again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His bad mood followed him as he trekked the familiar streets toward the university. It bounced around in his skull and just made him more sour. From the stupid pasta art they’d made as little brats to their grades through school and finally to Feliciano’s decision to wait a year to begin university, his grandfather had always favored the younger of the two brothers. Lovino’s own hesitant request to wait a year had been summarily shot down with a firm “You have to learn the business as my heir Lovino. You don’t have a year to waste.” As though taking a year to travel their vineyards and properties would have really been a waste. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So here he was, bundled away to his grandfather’s apartments in Florence learning how to run a wine business and build the exalted Vargas empire higher while his baby brother toured said empire with their grandfather. One brother trudging through the streets of Florence while another probably slept in at the Villa de Vargas. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The first strains of guitar reached him as he was waiting to cross the street. It was distant, but like it did every morning it managed to pierce through the dark cloud of irritation being up so early always caused in him. As he drew nearer to the familiar sound, Lovino couldn’t help but feel his shoulders begin to relax. Every morning and every afternoon he walked this route. Mostly because it was the fastest one to his school, but also because there were a few...benefits to this route.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One of the benefits was a man. Not like that! A man who played music. His music was good. Lovino liked it. Sure the guitar player was handsome, but he knew his instrument and there was a news stand conveniently across from the guitarist he could stop to browse on the way into class to stay up to date on the latest headlines. Sometimes he even bought a paper or magazine if they caught his interest enough. Not because he needed an excuse to stand there while the man played guitar. It was just because he liked to stay up to date on what is going on in the world!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Though maybe he’d buy one today since it seemed like the man had a song he hadn’t heard yet and listening to it while he browsed the headlines wouldn’t take up too much time. Lovino paused and tugged his bag around to dig through it. Finding the euros he was looking for, he held them tight in his hand and continued to browse just in case a magazine or paper jumped out at him. It seemed mostly to be the usual political scandals and news of the upcoming mafia trials, which honestly didn’t interest him that much. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He could be forgiven, then, he thought, for letting the smooth voice of the Spaniard distract him from his perusal of the news. He’d glanced at the man when he first came into sight, but a glance wasn’t enough to really do him justice. Bouncy brown curls rested stylishly above radiant green eyes, their color doing little to distract from the wide smile lighting the man’s entire face up as he sang. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With the way the man was staring at him, he could almost pretend he was singing to Lovino directly rather than just to the street with him conveniently being one of the only pedestrians around. Of course, as the man continued to keep eye contact with him it became a little harder to tell himself the song was for anyone willing to listen and not for him in particular. The intensity of the gaze and the way the man’s voice seemed to thicken were really more than just a casual glance from a street performer could account for.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man’s smile widened the longer they stared at each other and Lovino realized that at this point he couldn’t just play it off as a casual glance.  He could feel the heat creeping up his neck into his cheeks the longer the man watched him. Was he expecting something? Did he want Lovino to come over and watch him play? His idiot band mates weren’t around and the Italian could think of worse ways to spend his morning than watching a handsome man play guitar.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t broken eye contact with the man once as the guitarist practically crooned the Spanish words to him. He didn’t know what they meant, despite Spanish being in the same family as his native Italian, but the man was singing them so passionately that he didn’t feel like there was a real language barrier there. A love song was a love song in any language and Lovino was enough of a ladies man to recognize one when he heard it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was still staring at the man and his blush was spreading down into his chest if the suddenly too warm scarf and jacket were any indication. Shit. He had to do something now. He couldn’t just rush off to class. Not if he ever wanted to show his face here again. Did he want to show his face here again? It was starting to get awkward with the man singing to him and Lovino just staring at him from across the piazza. He needed to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> or the man was going to think Lovino was an idiot!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hesitant, feeling as though he were under a spell, Lovino took a couple halting steps forward. He hadn’t meant to. He didn’t think he’d meant to anyway. But now that he’d done it he’d look extra stupid if he just turned tail and ran off.  And did he even want to run off? The man’s voice was smooth and he always seemed really friendly the few times Lovino had seen him talking to someone who had stopped to listen to him. It wouldn’t be </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>unusua for Lovino to say hello and then leave right? He could drop the euros he’d pulled out for a newspaper in the man’s guitar case, tell him he played well, and then go. It would be fine. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then he was standing right in front of the man, practically close enough to touch his guitar. Shit, exactly how close had he gotten while distracted by the man’s music!? Panic taking over, Lovino looked away and thrust out the fist holding his euros. A peek at the man showed he was still watching him, an expression of delight? Glee? On his face. Was he being mocked? Did this bastard think it was funny he’d lured Lovino over like a sailor to a siren? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Well! Lovino would show him. It wasn’t like he’d been charmed by the foreign words of the man’s song. He was just bored of the news and wanted to spend his money on something more worthwhile! That was it! He was taking </span>
  <em>
    <span>pity</span>
  </em>
  <span> on this probably homeless guy who had to perform like some kind of zoo animal for his food. That’s all. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This in mind, Lovino forced his hand to unclench and drop the euros into the guitar case. A second of silence as the song finished was enough to make his face flame scarlet, however, and all he could manage to squeeze out of his suddenly dry throat was a rough “Here!” Then he was taking off toward his classes, mortified he had choked up instead of just getting the compliment out he’d meant to give. He probably thought Lovino was some kind of freak or something for staring at him so long and then throwing money at him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With the energy his embarrassment gave him, it didn’t take him long to make it to campus. The walk from his apartment wasn’t long at all and he had left early to make sure he had time to check the papers. Not because he liked to listen to at least one full song from the guitarist he’d made a fool of himself in front of this morning. It didn’t matter now though, not after what had just happened. He could never walk that route ever again. He’d have to take the longer way home this afternoon when his classes were done. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Speaking of classes he’d gotten there a little earlier than usual. It wouldn’t hurt to maybe get a coffee at the student cafe and look over his marketing assignment before class. Maybe a little caffeine was what he needed. The lack of it that morning had probably been why he’d acted like a brain dead idiot back there. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That in mind, Lovino made his way into the cafe area beside the library. The woman behind the counter smiled widely at him as he stepped up, already putting in his usual order. “Good morning! You’re here a little early today, aren’t you Romano? Your usual black coffee with a shot of espresso?”</span>
  <span> At the sound of his middle name, Lovino smiled. While he might be Lovino Vargas, heir to one of Italy's most successful wine empires, here in Florence he was just Universtiy student Romano who always had a rude word for people gawking and a smooth compliment for a pretty lady. <br/></span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>And no one would ever accuse Lovino Romano Vargas of not being polite to a pretty girl. Not even in his blackest of moods and definitely not because of some stupid handsome Spaniard. “I couldn’t wait to see your beautiful face this morning, bella. Could you give me two shots of espresso? It’s going to be a long day.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>A pretty pink blush spread over the woman’s cheeks and she nodded, putting something into the register. “Anything for my favorite customer. I’ll have that right out to you!” It felt good to know he could still make her blush even after several months of his flirting. His damaged ego appreciating the giggles as she took his money to pay for the drink and practically flounced off to put it together for him. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Being the only customer this early, he had his pick of seating and chose a table next to the window so he could watch the slowly building trickle of students into the building. He set his laptop up and smiled flirtatiously as the woman carried his drink out to him instead of making him get up to get it from her. “Grazie bella.” For a minute it seemed like she was going to linger, but the tall man who worked with her behind the counter called her back before she could do more than get out a 'You’re welcome.'</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He watched her go, enjoying the way the jeans she’d chosen to wear that day framed her hips and ass, then turned his eyes back to his laptop and opened up the writing program he’d done his assignment in. It was just preliminary research into market conditions for the wine industry based on responses to a survey about wine labels, but since this would one day be his bread and butter he wanted to make sure he was being as thorough as he could with it. While his grandpa might not have any faith in him, he still wanted to do a good job at carrying on the family business. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the half hour he had before he needed to get to class, Lovino managed to add a little more information into the essay and finish his coffee. The cafe area filled up quickly with other students looking for caffeine and a place to sit so he didn’t get a chance to do more than wave at the woman who had taken his order as he packed up and left, but that was okay. He’d likely see her again next week unless she up and quit, which Lovino doubted she’d do if she hadn’t after the first few months he’d been coming in for a cup of morning coffee.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His first class of the day was uninspiring and while he made sure to take notes and copy down the next assignment, he didn’t bother to pay attention too closely to it. He wasn’t that great at the design aspect of things, preferring more of the hands on work involved in making the wine and growing the grapes, but it was part of the masters degree his grandfather wanted him to get and it wouldn’t hurt to be at least a little familiar with this aspect of the business when he eventually started to actually get more involved with the vineyards. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lovino made it through two out of his three Thursday classes in a relatively good mood after his coffee that morning with only one to go, so of course Feliciano had to message him while he was waiting for his marketing class. It wasn’t the </span>
  <em>
    <span>worst </span>
  </em>
  <span>message, just a selfie of Feliciano out among the grapes with their grandpa talking to the people working the vineyard in the background, but it reminded him that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> hadn’t been asked to go. That should have been </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the vineyard meeting their people and touring their operations. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mood soured like a rotten batch of wine from this reminder of his grandfather’s favor toward Feliciano, Lovino practically stomped his way to marketing. If nonno wouldn’t take him seriously then he’d just have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>make </span>
  </em>
  <span>him take Lovino seriously. Romulus Vargas couldn’t ignore his oldest grandson if Lovino graduated with honors. Hell, if he could graduate con lode then his grandfather would have to shut up as Lovino swept in and took over the family business right out of college!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That goal in mind, he spitefully took detailed notes in marketing and lingered to clarify some points with the professor. If his grandpa wasn’t going to take him seriously then he’d just have to prove to the old bastard he was making a huge mistake by pushing Lovino Romano Vargas off like some unwanted relative. Scheduling a time to visit with the professor during office hours next week, Lovino headed for the exit of the building. He could spend tomorrow planning his marketing project since his communication class had been canceled again and he didn’t have to come in. That way he’d have something to run by his professor next week.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In his irritation, Lovino forgot until it was too late that he’d intended to never set foot on this route home ever again. As the first strains of guitar and flute reached his ears Lovino paused. It was a performance he’d heard before. Something bouncy and fun that usually caused people to crowd around the guitarist and his friends. Lovino, occasionally, hid himself in the crowd when it gathered large enough to listen to them play but not today. Not after that morning. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He could turn around and go back, maybe walk the long way home. But he was tired and hungry now and the anger from before was simmering under the surface in resistance to the lighthearted music drifting in the air. Who was that stupid Spanish guitarist to chase him away from the fastest route to his lunch anyway? He wasn’t going to backtrack and walk the longer way for some bastard! </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Designer shoes angrily eating up the pavement as he power walked toward his apartment, the Italian man hoped the crowd would be enough to hide him entirely from the green eyed gaze that had so caught him off guard at the start of his day. Just because he wasn’t going to be delayed by him didn’t mean he wanted the man to see him either. As he drew level with the small band though, Lovino couldn’t help but glance over at them. As much as he would deny it even to himself, the obvious enjoyment in what they did every day was something even he had a hard time looking away from. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And because nothing could be easy for him, not today of all days, the minute he turned his head to look the crowd parted just enough for those green green eyes to lock onto his own hazel. To his irritation, heat flared to life along his spine and in his cheeks just like that morning. Unlike that morning, however, Lovino wasn’t caught like some helpless deer in the headlights. He had just the right mix of outrage and irritation coursing through him to let him tear his eyes away and continue on. He was going home and eating his pasta alla norma and no handsome man with stunning green eyes and a smile like the sun was going to stop him!<br/></span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So instead of 3 chapters I've decided to make this 4 as my darling spouse has suggested a really cute scenario. I hadn't planned on including it in this story at first, but the more I thought about it the more it seemed like just the sort of silly bullshit these idiots would get up to. </p>
<p>I did my best to go over this for typos, but my eyes tend to skip over things after I've read something once or twice so if you spot any please let me know.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Long Way Round</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Traffic lights are the worst and sleepy Greeks aren't too bad</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He was late. He was late! Shit, he was really late. He’d had a little too much wine and maybe stayed up a little too long Sunday night and now he was late heading to class. Granted it was just his Design class and normally he wouldn’t care if he was late to something but he was out to prove his grandfather wrong and being late to class wasn’t a great way to do that.</p><p>Throwing on some clothes, Lovino only took the time to make sure he wasn’t too horribly dressed before snatching his bag up and dashing out the door. He didn’t have time to go the longer route to avoid the guitarist, so he’d just have to run by as fast as possible and hope he wasn’t noticed.</p><p>When the familiar sounds of a Spanish guitar hit his ears, Lovino ducked his head and sped up. God, why hadn’t he just woken up on time? He could have not hit the snooze on his phone. He could have left the actual alarm clock plugged in. He could have ignored that god damn email from Feliciano about all the fun things he and nonno had gotten up to in the vineyard, asking when was Lovi going to come on one of these trips? Didn’t he like touring the vineyards? Didn’t he want to spend time with them?</p><p>Fuck, now he was both late and even more pissed. God, why couldn’t Feliciano just leave him alone when he went on those stupid trips so Lovino could pretend that they weren’t happening? Why did he have to -</p><p>“HEY! Wait!”</p><p>Lovino jerked to a stop as something grabbed his arm. Whipping around, a curse ready on his lips for the fool that would dare grab him when he was already fucking late enough thank you very much!! Only, there were big green eyes looking at him with a handsome mouth panting for air and a guitar slung across the man’s back and oh god it was him.</p><p>The curse died a pathetic, squeaky death as a strangled sound escaped him instead as Lovino gaped at the man. Was this guy for real? Had he really just chased Lovino down and grabbed his arm? Maybe he was more late for class than he thought. Maybe he was so late he was still fucking dreaming in his bed ignoring the screech of his alarm.</p><p>“...migo? Amigo, are you alright?”</p><p>Shit. What had the guy said? Lovino hoped this was a dream after all because he didn’t know if he’d survive it if this nightmare was real. Well, if it was real he was really fucking late and still pissed off and this guy was still holding onto his fucking elbow. “What the hell do you want, bastard?! I have somewhere to be!”</p><p>He could see the startled and guilty look on the man’s face, but he kept along next to the bustling Italian down the early morning street. “Ah, sorry but you didn’t stop. I was worried? You usually stop to listen and I didn’t see you on Friday so I thought maybe something had happened.”</p><p>Was this guy real? Who said something like that to a complete stranger? He could feel his cheeks rapidly heating out of irritation, definitely nothing more. Why would he be kind of touched he’d noticed Lovino was missing? Jesus, he really took note of that? And he’s still following him?? Fucking hell.</p><p>He smashed the crosswalk signal, now stuck with his pursuing bard at the street corner. Lovino glanced at him, like a fool. Then, awkwardly, because those stupid green eyes looked so sincere and worried and didn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon, he grumbled out “I’m fine. I just didn’t have class Friday and I’m late for class now.”</p><p> </p><p>Not that he really owed this guy an explanation, but...well...it was kind of nice that he’d been worried? Lovino had made a few friends in his university classes, but they weren’t that close and none of them would have chased him down in the street to make sure he was okay. Well, Alfred might have but Lovino definitely didn’t want the loud American chasing after him in any way shape or form.</p><p>The guilty smile relaxing into relief on the guy’s face was unfairly cute and Lovino wondered if there was somewhere he could submit a formal complaint about it. Was there a form he could turn into the Spanish embassy in Rome about how rudely attractive Spanish people were? If there wasn’t then there should be and he’d be the first one to complain about this guy. Probably not the last, but it was his idea and he’d fucking submit it first.</p><p>“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you late. I see you come through here a lot and I’ve never had the chance to introduce myself. So! I am introducing myself now. My name’s Antonio and it’s been a pleasure playing for you every morning.”</p><p>That was definitely a blush surging to life in his face. He felt like he’d probably have steam coming out of his ears if this weren’t real life with actual scientific laws. Who just said something like that? Who the hell was this man that he had the fucking balls to walk up to a complete stranger and just tell them he liked playing music for them? To run after a complete stranger just to introduce himself and say that?! Why was this the longest fucking light in the world!?</p><p>And was he staring at Lovino?!? Did he expect something from him? Like what? Oh, maybe he wanted Lovino’s name in return. The light wasn’t changing. Had he missed it? He hit the signal again and Antonio didn’t move. Well,he could have his name. It wasn’t hard to tell people his name in this city. “I’m Romano. You didn’t have to come running after me. You could have just caught me this afternoon while you’re playing with your pushy friends, you pushy bastard.”</p><p>The man’s, Antonio’s, eyes seemed to sparkle and Lovino really wasn’t sure how to feel about that. His face was still red though and he supposed he should consider himself lucky that he’d managed to get the words out without stumbling over them. With that kind of reaction just the name he preferred to use around campus he felt suddenly glad he hadn’t given him his first name.</p><p>Antonio took what Lovino assumed was an unconscious step forward, reaching for Lovino’s hand. Lovino hurriedly jerked it away, giving the other man a harsh glare, and the guitarist was quick to hold his hands up in a placating gesture. “That’s a really good name! I like it. Are you busy right now Romano?”</p><p>“Am I-!? B-bastard, I just said I was late for class!” This was it, his name in that cheerful voice was going to do him in. He was going to be stained permanently red like a cheap boxed wine at this rate. Could someone die from too much blood in the face? Wasn’t that why you weren’t supposed to hang upside down for too long?</p><p>Traffic finally halted and his saving grace, the light permitting him to cross, finally showed. That stupid handsome face was grinning sheepishly at him now, a hand rubbing the back of his own neck. “Oh right, well uh...I guess I won’t hold you here then? Will you be coming by this afternoon?”</p><p>Throat spasming around any words he might try to say, Lovino just nodded. Mr. handsome bastard didn’t seem to mind though, beaming at him like the sun itself. “Then I’ll let you go so you can get to class! Don’t be late! I’ll see you later Romano!”</p><p>Not needing to be told twice, Lovino ran the fuck away from that awkward situation. He couldn’t believe the handsome asshole he listened to every morning had had the balls to just run up to him and grab his arm and imply they were meeting up together to do something this afternoon like they were friends or something.</p><p>Were they friends? He didn’t think so since they’d only just really met. But were they strangers? You didn’t hang around to listen to a complete stranger every day for weeks on end. You didn’t share seeking glances with them and think about them during the more boring parts of the day. You didn’t look forward to seeing them or go out of your way to have more time in their presence. Did you?</p><p>Lovino shook his head, not wanting to fall further into that rabbit hole and sped into the building, bypassing his usual morning coffee in favor of heading for his communication class. It was the only one of the three he was currently taking that ran on Friday, but as it had been canceled last Friday. He definitely didn’t want to miss it today. The professor usually went over two day’s worth of material in one class if she had to cancel.</p><p>Heracles was already waiting outside the door, arms crossed over his stomach and sat against the wall with his eyes closed. Creeping up, Lovino eyed him. Was he sleeping or just relaxing? It was hard to tell with this guy sometimes. Well if he was sleeping that was too bad. Lovino was going to sit down anyway and Heracles could just deal with being woken up.</p><p>Mind made up, Lovino sprawled on the floor next to the Greek man and pulled out his laptop. Heracles didn’t stir either, although that wasn’t unusual. He’d managed to sleep through the noise of Lovino setting up shop next to him or he was dead. Grimacing at the thought, Lovino glanced over to make sure he was breathing. What would he even do if he’d just sat down next to a corpse? The steady rise and fall of that chest reassured him he didn’t have to worry about that though, so he turned his attention to the marketing project he’d been working on all weekend.</p><p>“You missed our design class,” came a soft voice. Lovino nearly screamed, hands smashing on the keys of his laptop. Jerking to glare at the sleepy eyes of Heracles beside him, he huffed.</p><p>“Don’t fucking do that! You nearly gave me a god damned heart attack!” Deleting the nonsense his involuntary keyboard smash had caused, Lovino saved what he’d written and closed the machine. “And I know I missed it, dumbass. How do you know I missed it? You were sitting out here when I got here and I know that our class just finished a few minutes ago. So why didn’t you go?”</p><p>Teal eyes regarded him from behind drooping eyelids. “I heard you sit next to me when you got here, so I know you missed class.” He yawned, stretching his legs out and letting himself slide along the wall until his head met Lovino’s shoulder with a sigh. “And I was tired, so I just came here to nap instead of going to class. I’ll get notes from someone on the lecture later. Why didn’t you go to class?”</p><p>Lovino shoved at him but gave up with a grumble as it made the bigger man just lean more heavily onto him.. “I accidentally slept in and there wasn’t enough class time left by the time I got here to bother going.”</p><p>It was almost irritating how laid back the Greek was, but this once Lovino was glad for his laziness. Instead of interrogating Lovino about why he’d slept in, Heracles just yawned and closed his eyes again. “Wake me up when class starts?”</p><p>“Hell no. I’m just going to dump your ass on the floor and go in.” Not so glad that he was going to be nice to him though. If Heracles had really come straight here to nap instead of going to class then he’d had plenty of time to sleep and Lovino wasn’t going to help him get more of a nap in. Especially since Lovino himself hadn’t had a good night’s sleep. Yes, he was just bitter like that.</p><p>The pout he was given in response was kind of cute, but Lovino was immune due to his younger brother’s abuse of such a face. So he easily looked away from it to his phone instead. “Keep your ass awake if you don’t want to get locked out again. I’m not your fucking alarm clock.”</p><p>A quiet groan came from beside him and Lovino felt the head on his shoulder lift off as his friend sat up and stretched his arms out. “You’re so grumpy. Maybe you should nap more too? What were you working on?”</p><p>“It’s a project for marketing. I’ve got a meeting set up with the professor this afternoon so I’m trying to get as much of it laid out as I can.” Another text from Feliciano. This one had a picture of the breakfast he was eating. Something Lovino didn’t want to think about. He left it on read.</p><p>Heracles nodded, stretching forward and staring at the wall across from them. “Good luck with that, then. Do you still want to partner up for our design project? We have to tell the professor if we’re doing it solo or not next class.”</p><p>A considering hum escaped him as he decided to reply to Feliciano with something mostly civil. He wasn’t mad at his brother and he wasn’t going to take it out on him either, but he hadn’t had time to get breakfast or coffee that morning and the picture of what looked like a delicious breakfast with coffee included wasn’t what he wanted to be looking at. “If you still want to work with me. I had some ideas we could go over after this class if you have time? Just don’t expect me to do all the work you lazy bastard.”</p><p>He looked away from his phone to the man beside him. Heracles nodding along to his plan. “Ναί, sounds good to me.”</p><p>Other people were starting to gather, so Lovino packed his laptop away and stood up. He offered a hand to the man still on the ground, grunting with the effort of pulling him up. “You lazy bastard. Next time, I’m leaving you on the ground. You’re too fucking heavy for how much you sleep, you muscle headed idiot.”</p><p>And he did have muscle. Lovino didn’t understand how someone who took every opportunity to sleep could manage to retain so much muscle. It had to be good genes because he couldn’t even imagine Heracles working out in a gym. It wasn’t like he was built like a bodybuilder, but he definitely had more definition than the average college guy Lovino had seen around campus. It was enough that he was deceptively heavier, than he looked.</p><p>“Ah sorry, I’ll pull myself up next time huh?” The taller man smiled at him and Lovino glanced away with a scowl. He liked Heracles. The man was friendly without being overbearing and he didn’t mind that Lovino was frequently grouchy and rude. He also didn’t bring up the fact that Lovino went by his middle name in class the way that some of their classmates had in the past when the design professor had called roll the first day to make sure everyone had shown up.</p><p>He kind of wished that she hadn’t. After that day she hadn’t bothered to do any form of roll to verify if someone came into class or not, but some of his classmates remembered his name and asked about the use of his middle name instead. At least she hadn’t called out last names. Lovino could only imagine the irritation he’d feel if anyone had recognized him as the heir to the Vargas wine company. He had enough people bothering him to try and get a foothold into the business at the company events his grandfather took him to.</p><p>Following the others into the class as the door opened for them, Lovino matched his pace to Heracles. “You fucking better.” They didn’t talk further as the professor greeted everyone and started the lesson.</p><p>After class he stuck with Heracles to discuss their project. He didn’t have a lot of time before his marketing class, so they made plans to meet again in the library to get a skeleton of their project put together to present to their professor tomorrow.</p><p>Lovino breezed through the rest of his day in a fairly good mood at how productive he’d been despite his late start. The meeting with his professor went smoothly, the man gave some useful tips so Lovino could flesh out his project and suggested some resources that would help in finishing his rough draft.</p><p>Likewise, he’d finally gotten coffee while going over some designs with Heracles that they could present to the professor in the morning since she’d asked them to come with both a decision and an outline of what they wanted to do with their project. Lovino had had the idea of making themed wine labels and after suggesting at least one that included an ancient ruins design Heracles had been interested in it enough that he’d agreed. Hopefully the professor would green light their project since the class was aimed more towards commercial design.</p><p>As he stepped outside he realized the sun had gone down and a little niggling feeling began to prick at him from the back of his mind. He felt like he’d forgotten something, but he had his bag and there weren’t any books or anything he’d needed to check from the library after he’d met up with Heracles. What was he forgetting?</p><p>It wasn’t until he reached the news stand, the street full of the sound of pedestrians and empty of guitar music, that he remembered. He’d said he was going to be here earlier, to meet up with Antonio. His shoulders hunched in guilt as he glanced around, trying to see if Antonio had waited for him. Why would he though? They were basically strangers. Lovino was at least five hours later coming home than he normally would be and it had gotten dark a while ago.</p><p>There wasn’t that familiar mop of brown curls or glint of green eyes in sight. No one standing around with a guitar case or a warm smile. Shuffling up to the man who ran the news stand, he cleared his throat. “Did uh, did the guy who plays guitar here leave already?”</p><p>Lovino tried not to scowl too defensively when the old man looked at him. “He left about an hour ago. Toni was here playing for a while after the other two left, but I think he has a job he goes to in the evenings.”</p><p>“Thanks signore.” Lovino grimaced, turning to head back to his apartment with a slump in his shoulders. This was his own fault, but it’s what he deserved. And hell, maybe it was good? Hadn’t he intended to stop taking this route anyway? Now he could just use the extra time he normally gave himself in the mornings to take the long way to class and he’d never have to face the embarrassment of making a fool of himself last week, nor accidentally standing the man up today.</p><p>Yeah, that would work. Lovino let himself into his apartment and kicked his shoes off. He’d just go the long way and Antonio would forget about him easily. It would be fine. Lovino didn’t need to be distracted right now anyway. He had a lot of projects coming up in his classes and he’d need to focus his attention on those if he wanted to kick his grandfather down a peg or two. Maybe if the labels were good enough he’d even be able to present them as an option for the new traminer they’d be harvesting next season. His grandfather had acquired a small vineyard in Venezia Giulia two years ago and this was the first harvest they intended to put under the Vargas name, so it still needed a label design. If Lovino could give his grandfather a good selection of labels then the old man wouldn’t be able to just brush him off.</p><p>That in mind, Lovino got the water boiling to make himself some dinner and settled at the table to work. He needed a good pitch to make sure the professor approved their design project and he needed a good design to show nonno.</p><p>The next morning Lovino took the long way to class.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My lovely partner helped beta this chapter/checked Lovi's character for me as they're much better at him than I am. Thank you babe!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. At A Fountain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He didn’t come. Antonio waited as long as he could before he had to go to his job at the warehouse, but Romano didn’t come. He wasn’t there the next morning either, or that afternoon. Antonio was starting to think that maybe chasing after him had been a bad idea. At least before he’d gotten to see the handsome man every morning. Now there wasn’t so much as a glimpse of a curl in the crowd. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he didn’t show on Friday Antonio felt his heart constrict. It was a little silly to be this attached by someone who was essentially a stranger to him, but he’d thought that Romano at least liked his music enough to come listen. Even if he would have ended up turning down Antonio’s intended request to get coffee that afternoon he’d been stood up, the Spanish man wished he’d at least had the chance to ask. Now he’d be haunted by the could have beens of going on a date with Romano.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His friends, who really were mercifully patient with him sometimes, had noticed his bad mood too. It wasn’t hard, especially since they shared an apartment. Antonio could tell they were trying their best to help him forget Romano and he kind of hated that too. Which didn’t help make him feel any better and instead made him feel guilty for making things uncomfortable at home. At least they hadn’t started trying to set him up like they sometimes did when he got too grumpy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was the weekend now though and on the weekend his friends didn’t play together in the piazza. Instead, Antonio went alone to the Ponte Vecchio to play among the locals and tourists. It wasn’t the busiest place he could have set up, but it did have the most romantic views in his opinion and a lot of couples liked to linger nearby while he played his music. It was also just a nice spot for him to enjoy the peace of Florence. The shops along the bridge were old and the history they held was interesting to think about while his fingers plucked at the strings.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There wasn’t any particular song in his head to be played, so he just let his fingers make whatever tune they wanted. The lack of his cute little muse the past week made it hard for him to want to sing today. Oh, he’d play. Playing guitar was never a hardship and most days he didn’t have to think too hard about it either. The melodies came easily from his soul to the instrument in his hand. But to sing? Singing came from the heart and his heart was aching. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he didn’t sing, but he did play and the tourists and couples who came to the bridge for the romance of it appreciated the soft music as a soundtrack to their afternoon stroll. And if the shop owners who were so used to Antonio’s voice floating in from outside their windows missed his songs, well, none of them came out to tell him so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He considered the problem of his missing Romano as he strummed. Antonio was vaguely aware that Romano went to the university near where he played during the week. Could he maybe get a permit to play outside the main building? He already had one for the bridge and piazza, but he wasn’t sure any were even available right outside the school. It wasn’t exactly a tourist destination.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could just go there and play. So long as he wasn’t collecting tips for his music Antonio was reasonably certain it didn’t count as a situation he needed to have a permit for. He’d just be a man practicing his music outside. Playing for himself and anyone that wanted to stop and listen. Hopefully a specific someone would stop and listen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Would that be creepy though? Romano was obviously avoiding him. He hadn’t walked down the street Antonio played on in a week. He sometimes missed on Fridays, but he’d never missed a whole week before and Antonio knew that the university’s classes were over for the semester yet. He was friendly with enough people who attended to be aware of when the breaks were. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What if Romano got mad at him for following all the way to the university? As interested in him as he was, even Antonio knew that was borderline stalking. But if he didn’t go, would he ever see the feisty Italian man again? He wasn’t confident he would. Besides, it would be Romano’s choice to come and listen wouldn’t it? He wouldn’t get up and chase him this time. If Romano didn’t stop to listen then he’d definitely give up. He didn’t want to be arrested for harassment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mind made up, Antonio changed his melody to something a little more upbeat. The sun was starting to set and come Monday if Romano wasn’t there he’d go play in front of the university. His friends would understand if he explained his plan to them. They were very supportive of his passions, to the point of agreeing to play in a street band with him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Antonio knew that Francis wouldn’t have ever chosen to do this on his own and Gilbert probably wouldn’t have either. They had fun with it, sure, but it wasn’t a passion for them like it was for him. They enjoyed playing to crowds but the feeling he got when someone appreciated his music was better than anything he’d ever known before; the rush of inspiration a laughing woman gave him when he sang a cheesy love song at her, the deep satisfaction of a song about lost chances making a man tear up, it was all he wanted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All he used to want, anyway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lights of the bridge flickered on as the shadows grew and Antonio looked out over the water. This really was a beautiful city. As much as the circumstances of him being here hadn’t been the best, he did still enjoy this city and its people. It wasn’t just that this was where he’d met his muse, though that was definitely a bonus. This was also where he’d finally had the courage to become the musician he’d always dreamed of being. Where he lived with his friends and spent every day enjoying his life instead of trudging through it trying to make others happy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Right now though, the sun going down on the bridge meant the shops were closing up and foot traffic would start to drop off. It wouldn’t hurt to stop early and get something to eat. He’d forgotten to bring something for lunch and hadn’t been in the mood to go find something earlier, so he was pretty hungry. Francis said he had a friend who was opening a new restaurant. Something to do with a southern Italian style kitchen, which he’d been told was similar in some ways to Spanish style cooking. If he remembered right it was near the Piazza della Signoria.</span>
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  <span>Food in mind, Antonio collected the generous donations from his earlier listeners and tucked what he could away in his wallet, the rest going into a little compartment in his guitar case. The case settled over his back, he headed down the bridge toward the Piazza. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, it didn’t help his search for food that he didn’t remember the name of the restaurant. Not even scanning the street for inspiration jogged his memory. It did, however, provide plenty of inspiration in the form of his muse sitting and eating something on the fountain in front of the Palazzo. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Antonio considered the opportunity the universe had just dropped into his lap.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>During the week he’d been content to let the man come and go. He’d taken a risk on Monday by stopping mid song to take off chasing after him. Here and now though, with no song occupying him and no obvious place the man needed to be, he could try again. He could walk right over and sit beside him and maybe strike up a conversation without having to risk his buskers license by playing in front of the University.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could invite him to get dinner, have a drink afterward. Maybe even offer to meet up sometime for a coffee? Did the man drink coffee? He must. Everyone drank coffee in Italy didn’t they? Or at least that’s what his experience had been so far. Even that asshole Kirkland drank coffee in Italy, though Antonio knew he preferred tea.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Romano shifted and looked up from his phone, the light of the street catching on his face and throwing his features into sharp contrast with the shadows growing around them. Antonio didn’t know if the man had spotted him, but he hoped the sudden stiffness was more because of surprise at running into each other than because he thought Antonio was a stalker. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grinning, the Spaniard took a couple quick bounding steps toward the fountain, holding the strap of his guitar case to keep it from bouncing on his back. He came to a stop in front of the man, taking in the wide surprised eyes and the leftover wrapper of what looked like a pastry of some kind in the hand not holding his phone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ciao! I’m glad I ran into you. I’ve been worried since I haven’t seen you all week. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to wait up that late on Monday. I had a shift at my job that I couldn’t get covered.” He gave Romano the best good guy smile he could muster, hoping that maybe something had happened that made them miss each other all week instead of it being Romano avoiding him. Wait, was he blushing?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was definitely red on his cheeks. How cute! He hoped the eyebrows drawing in and the tightening around his mouth was just shyness. He’d heard the man talk before, barking rapid Italian into his phone by the news stand, but he hadn’t seemed to really be angry. Or if he was, he’d let Antonio’s music soothe his anger away because he’d smiled after yelling into his phone. Hopefully he wouldn’t get mad because Antonio didn’t think there was any smooth way to unpack a guitar and start playing when someone was yelling at you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe he should be paying more attention. The man’s face was even more red and his eyes were narrowed. Had he said something? “Ay Bastard! Listen when someone’s talking to you, ah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rubbing the back of his neck, Antonio nodded. “Ah sorry sorry, I got lost in thought. What did you say?”</span>
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  <span>The red was deeper, for sure. He wondered how far down that red went. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood. I said what do you want? Can’t you see I’m fucking eating?”</span>
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  <span>
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  </span>
  <span>“Just to apologize for missing you before! And to ask do you want to get a coffee with me? Or uh, well it’s kind of late for coffee so maybe a drink instead? I’ll pay!” A bright smile on his face, Antonio really hoped that Romano would say yes. If a glimpse of his muse in the morning could keep him going all day he couldn’t imagine what kind of inspiration a night out with him would bring. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It didn’t hurt that the cute blush was still on his cheeks, either. It didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>seem</span>
  </em>
  <span> like it was out of anger, despite the harsh language and dark scowl. Antonio was pretty sure he’d only ever seen him smile once, so he wasn’t going to take the sour expression personally.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s never too late for coffee. If you’re paying then fine. But I’m not drinking that cheap shit from the street vendor. Take me to the bar in Piazza della Republica.” Romano gave him a narrow eyed frown, but Antonio counted it as a win. He had enough he could afford a coffee at the bar. Hopefully Romano would be willing to tell him what had kept him away all week too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You got it Romano! Come on, I know a shortcut there, no? I’m friends with the owner too, so we should be able to get a place to sit if it’s busy!” Romano was really cute when he didn’t know what to say. The little noises he was making were definitely worth the favor he was going to owe to Francis if he had to pull strings to get them a seat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they walked along the brightly lit streets of Florence, Antonio let his shoulders relax and his smile bleed naturally into a grin. He hadn’t expected to run into Romano on his trip to find dinner, but he was glad he had. Hopefully he’d be able to convince the man to come out with him again later. If the way he felt like flying right now was anything to go by, Antonio got the feeling he wouldn’t want to let Romano leave his life ever again.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And if the smile slowly creeping over Romano’s face was to be believed, Antonio thought he could safely think that Romano didn’t want to be anywhere else right then either. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is the first multi-level fanfic I've finished and uploaded in years. I hope you guys enjoyed it! I have some more ideas for this verse so hopefully I'll be posting more in it in the future.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've been in this fandom a very long time but I think this is the first fanfic for it I've posted. I used to be over on ff.net back in the day in other fandoms but there was a prompt for this and it made me want to write for the first time in forever. I do intend this to be a multi-chapter fic, though probably not super long. </p><p>The song he's singing is called HIstoria de un Amor.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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